Page 19

I busied myself with blow drying my hair until it hung in glossy waves down my back. The noise of the dryer helped to drown out my sudden, weird, intrusive thoughts.

I rummaged through my suitcase, pulling out a little sheer white top, a black bandeau bra, and a pair of denim cut-offs.

When I walked back out into the living room, Joel was lounging on the lounge, showered and dressed in shorts and a white t-shirt. He raised his eyebrows at my attire.

“You didn’t need to make an effort for Ben, you know, Stink. He’s not all that fussy when it comes to women.”

“Well, that’s one thing he has in common with you, isn’t it?” I responded cuttingly.

Joel grinned. “Someone with talents like mine has a responsibility to society to share them around.”

I plonked myself down on the lounge, not too close to him. “Oh, that’s right, I forgot. You’re a ‘Sex God’.” Sarcasm oozed out of me. Joel moved closer, leaning over until his muscular arms caged me, his face inches from mine.

“You want me to take you to Heaven, Melanie Black?” he murmured.

I groaned, hoping I wasn’t blushing. “Ew, Joel! You are a walking cliché, you know that don’t you?”

He sat back with a snicker. “You love it.”

I had nothing to say to that.

“Seriously though, Stink. Ben’s very obviously holding a torch for you. He’s going to want …”

“What, Joel? What’s he going to want?” I interrupted.

“To sleep with you. At a bare minimum.”

I gaped at him. “Are you serious?”

Joel’s eyes blazed. “I’ve never been more –”

The elevator door hissed open, and Ben stepped out, beaming in my direction. Joel snapped his mouth shut, but he flashed me a pointed look.

“Hi! How was your flight?” Ben gushed. He turned around and lifted a heap of brown paper bags out of the elevator.

I stood up and walked over to him. “Long. What can I do to help?”

His eyes roved over me and for a second he didn’t respond.

“No. Sit down, Mel, you’re a guest,” he chided me gently, carrying the bags over to the kitchen.

“What are you cooking, Ben?” Joel asked smugly. I gave him a cold stare before turning back to Ben, who was unpacking the bags onto the bench.

Ben grinned at Joel. “You know I can’t cook, Joel. But I just picked up a feast fit for a queen.” He winked at me. I heard Joel snort in the background, but I ignored him.

“Smells good – what is it?” I asked, leaning over the kitchen bench.

“Well, I figured since this is your first time in Dubai, we should have some authentic Middle Eastern cuisine.” He started setting out platter after platter of food.

“Uh, how many people are you feeding tonight?” I asked. There was so much food.

“Well, I didn’t know what you’d like, so I just got a bit of everything. There’s Pide and Baba Ghanouj, and Loubia B’Zeit to start with, then there’s some Shish Kabobs, Tabouleh and Fattoush Salad, and Kibbeh Nayeh, and Baklava for dessert.”

I had only a vague idea what most of those things were, but I was so impressed by all the exotic names and his polished pronunciation that I couldn’t wait to try it all.

“Sounds delicious!” I said, watching as Ben laid out the first course on the table. Joel unfolded himself from the lounge and came to sit. Ben sat himself down to Joel’s right, and I sat to his left. He poured us all a glass of white wine.

“To new … friendships,” he said quietly as he raised his glass, watching me intently. I blushed as I raised mine to his and took a sip. Joel smirked into his glass, raising his eyebrow in my direction.

Ben watched me anxiously as I tried everything and seemed delighted when I proclaimed that I liked it. It was awkward, how hard he was trying to please me.

When he got up to make coffee, Joel stood and stretched, yawning.

“I think I’ll turn in for the night. Mel, are you sure you want to try the … Baklava?” he asked, voice dripping with innuendo.

“I’m sure it will be fantastic,” I told him, not able to meet his eyes.

Joel shrugged, sauntering over to the hallway leading to our bedrooms. I scowled after him.

Ben brought the coffee to the table, along with a couple of slices of Baklava. I turned to him with a forced smile, suddenly nervous to be alone with him. He set the dessert down and sat in the seat Joel had vacated. I took a sip of my coffee.

“I wanted to tell you earlier, but it felt a little weird in front of Joel – you look stunning tonight.”

“Thanks, Ben,” I mumbled, scooping up a spoonful of Baklava so I didn’t have to meet his intense stare.

“Mmm, this is amazing!” I said. Ben grinned as I polished it all off, gathering my empty bowl and taking it to the kitchen, before coming back and standing behind my chair .

“Well, I was sort of hoping that we might be able to work off the extra calories together,” he murmured and his hands found my shoulders. I felt the goosebumps rise on my skin.

“Um … really?” I squeaked, suddenly nervous. How had Joel known? What had he been about to tell me before Ben arrived home?

“I’m looking forward to getting to know you, Mel,” Ben whispered, and his hands moved up to my face, his lips to my hair. “I feel like we will be good together.”

Something about his tone sent a warning alarm deep in the back of my mind, but it fled when he suddenly tilted my head back and kissed me. His lips tasted of the sweet Baklava and the bitter coffee.

I parted my lips, touching my tongue to his.

Ben broke the kiss, watching me. His eyes were bright, and blue, and so much like Joel’s. Heat pooled low in my belly. Why not? I thought recklessly, standing and turning to him.

Ben took my hand and led me towards the other hallway that led off the kitchen towards the master suite.

He pressed me down on the edge of his enormous bed and stood before me.

He unbuttoned his shirt folding it neatly and setting it on top of a chest of drawers nearby, turning back, his broad, muscular chest glowing in the dim light.

“Your turn,” he murmured, gesturing to my clothes. After a confused pause, I pulled my top off over my head, dropping it to the ground, followed by my bra.

Ben watched me with an inscrutable expression as he unbuckled his belt, stepped out of his trousers and folded them up too, putting them with the shirt. He slipped off his briefs and stood, arms folded, dick semi-hard, and gazed pointedly at my shorts.

“You’re not naked yet,” he said darkly. My stomach fluttered as I unbuttoned my shorts, lifted my hips, and pulled them and my underpants off in one go, kicking them away. Ben’s eyes darkened, roving over me appreciatively, but not … hungrily. Not desperately.

He walked towards me and climbed onto the bed, kneeling over me, until his dick was bobbing in front of my face. I scooted back, putting a little space between us. He pressed me down with one hand, one of his legs nudging between mine.

“You look good on my bed,” he muttered, eyes skating down my body. He reached a hand between my legs, and with a sharp jab, one finger was probing inside me.

I gasped. I wasn’t as wet as I usually would be before a guy fingered me, and the friction wasn’t exactly comfortable.

“So tight,” he mumbled, taking hold of his cock and stroking himself in time to the thrust of his finger. “I hope I’ll fit.”

“You will,” I reassured him, trying not to wince as he added a second finger. “If you just –”

But he removed his fingers and reached into his bedside drawer, pulling out a condom, tearing the packet and rolling it down his length.

“Are you ready?” he asked. I bit my lip.

“Do you have any lube?” I whispered. There was no way he’d gotten me wet enough for his girth.

He nodded, grabbing a tube from the drawer and spreading it on himself with methodical efficiency. He leaned closer, until his arms caged my shoulders, and his knees were between my thighs. He spent a moment manoeuvring himself into position, then slid inside me.

Although it wasn’t painful, I did feel very stretched. I was so not into this. It felt more like I was conducting a business transaction than having sex.

Ben moved inside me rhythmically, like he was counting along with his thrusts. I closed my eyes because I couldn’t handle looking up at him. I felt his lips touch my shoulder and I placed my palms on his back.

“Mel, this feels so good,” he whispered in my ear. In what universe is this good sex? I wondered. I decided to take matters into my own hands.

I pressed him back from me, and when he looked down in surprise, I whispered, “Let me on top.”

His eyes darkened further, and his lips twisted in what might have been disapproval, but he complied.

I straddled him, slipping down onto him, rocking my hips back and forwards.

I put my hands on the head of the bed, closing my eyes.

Focusing only on the sensation, and not overthinking the rest. Things definitely felt better this way, with me in control.

Ben’s hands met my hips, and he held me still, thrusting upwards into me.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

He groaned, his body shuddering beneath me. Had he just come ? Just as I was actually starting to enjoy it?

I clambered off and sat on the edge of the bed as he lay panting. Disappointment flooded me, along with some other, gut churning emotion.

The mattress moved as Ben stood, walking into the en suite to discard the used condom. He returned, leaning against the door jamb.

“Would you like to sleep in here with me tonight?” he asked. I turned around and forced a smile onto my face.

“I think I’d better go back to my room,” I said as I stood, climbing back into my clothes. “Tomorrow’s a busy day.”

A brief flash of emotion lit Ben’s eyes, but he smiled understandingly. “Of course. If you’d feel more comfortable in your own room, then I’ll see you in the morning.”

He took my hand and kissed the back of it, then sauntered back into the en suite. I watched his impressive body move. That body should have been made for sex, but it just … wasn’t. I shook my head as I left the room, closing the door behind me. How was I supposed to face him in the morning?

The TV was on in the living room. Oh great! This was going to be one awkward conversation. I decided it wouldn’t help to pretend I couldn’t see him there, sitting on the lounge.

“I thought you were going to bed,” I said lightly, continuing to walk past like nothing untoward had happened.

“I couldn’t sleep – jet-lag,” he replied, not taking his eyes off the TV. “How was the Baklava?” he asked quietly .

I flushed. “It was great.”

“And … what about the sex?” He turned and fixed his azure gaze on me intently. I looked away, my stomach swirling. There was no point in denying it.

“It was …”

“He’s a bit old for you, don’t you think?” Joel interrupted.

“I like a man with experience,” I retorted on autopilot. Arguing with Joel was easy. Easier than thinking about what had just happened in Ben’s room.

He rolled his eyes. “I know I don’t get to dictate what you choose to do in your spare time, Mel, but just don’t do what you did in Melbourne.

You’ve got a great opportunity here. Your ankle might not be exactly where I would like it to be, but your fitness is otherwise excellent. Don’t throw this away.”

I hated it when he talked sense.

“I think you care about what I just did with Ben more than you’d like to admit.”

His composure didn’t even falter, which instantly frustrated me. He climbed off the lounge and sauntered casually around it until he was standing in front of me, about a foot away. I looked up into his eyes.

“Like I said, Stinky, I have no problem with what you choose to do in your private life.”

“Then you won’t mind if I go back for round two of the best sex of my life,” I lied. His mouth twitched.

“Mel, whatever happened in there, it wasn’t even close to the best sex of your life.”

I snorted, but it came out a little unsteady. “How would you know?” I asked. Joel moved closer to me, gazing down at me with those blue eyes that were a lot like Ben’s only … hungrier.

“Well, for starters,” he murmured, trailing one hand down my arm, “if you’ve had good sex, you breathe differently.” My breathing became shallower and noisier without my permission.

“And your legs go weak,” he continued, letting his hand trail down to my waist and slipping his fingers up under my top to caress my hip. I locked my knees so he wouldn’t notice how my legs were turning to jelly.

He leaned closer, until his mouth was beside my ear. His breath fanned against my neck, and his free hand reached up to press against my sternum, right between my suddenly heaving breasts. He whispered, “and your heart goes crazy.”

My heart hammered under his palm and hot, achy need rushed through my blood and between my legs. I clenched everything to stop myself from making the sound that was sitting at the base of my throat, clamouring to be moaned out.

Joel took his hands away and stepped back with a triumphant chuckle.

“See, Stinky? You just had better sex with me than you did with Ben, and I didn’t even have to take a stitch of clothing off you.”

I groaned. “I wasn’t excited, you tool! The thought of getting naked with you is horrifying enough to make me breathe differently and lose my balance!”

“Ah, but your heart gave you away.”

I scowled, disgusted at myself – mostly because what he’d just done to me was all kinds of hot. But he was Joel – it would totally be like having sex with my brother. Wouldn’t it?

Hang on a second – why was I even letting my mind take me there?

I stormed back to my room, Joel’s deep, amused laughter following me.

Why had I decided to let him come with me on this trip again?

Oh, that’s right, because he knew my game, and he knew his stuff, and he was surprisingly really good at coaching me.

Damn, I hated it – I just wanted to find a reason to be genuinely angry at him and I never could.

I flung myself face down on the bed. And the worst part was that everything he had said was right.

I shouldn’t be doing anything to compromise my game.

And he was right about how I felt after really good sex.

And he was right that he’d made me more excited barely even touching me than Ben had by actually sticking his dick in me.

And all of this put together just made me more annoyed at him .

With 20/20 hindsight, sleeping with Ben had been a huge mistake.

And I wasn’t going to make that mistake twice.

I wondered if Ben would be expecting a repeat performance.

My brain could easily work itself into confused, worried knots over this, but I was suddenly exhausted, to the point of feeling like my eyelids were weighted down with concrete.

Thank you, jet-lag.